


Cheap Food, Expensive Gas, and a Diner

by lyingmary



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Teenlock, Unilock, diner au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyingmary/pseuds/lyingmary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bit of a gamble, flirting with a man you don't even know the name of, but John Watson was always one for danger."</p><p>Teenlock AU: John and Sherlock meet at a diner in the middle of no where. John and Sherlock part at a diner in the middle of no where.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheap Food, Expensive Gas, and a Diner

The station smells of stale cigarettes, cheap food, and way too expensive gasoline. John quickly jogs up to the tiny diner inside. The air is cold and bites at his fingers turning them an alarming shade of red. 

 

John helps himself to a small booth in the corner. The diner is empty and the only noise is the chatter of staff and the static of a local tv show. John doesn't mind. He finds that he quite likes the homey feel of diners. 

 

John rubs his hands together and blows on them to warm up just as his waiter arrive. The waiter is tall, thin, and pale. His eyes glow blue in the moonlight, seeing as it almost one in the morning. He doesn't seem to much younger than John. Perhaps he is in his first or second year at uni. 

 

"Is there anything I can get for you to drink?" The lanky boy drawls out. 

 

"Just some hot tea, thanks." John flashes a smile. The boy all but growls. 

 

John is caught fiddling with a fork when his tea is served. But it's not just tea. The waiter also throws down a bowl of steaming soup. 

 

"Um- sorry to bother, but I didn't order this." 

 

"No, of course you didn't. I did for you. It's the only decent thing on the menu. The fish is saltier than the Black Sea, the burgers are most likely not made with real meat, and you need something hearty to get you through the night seeing as you've still got a ways to drive." 

 

John frowns for a moment. Sometimes the fake meat and over seasoned food is the magic of a diner. 

 

"Wait. I never mentioned I was driving anywhere for long hours. For all you now I live just down the street." 

 

"Please, no one comes to this diner at this ungodly hour unless they are driving through and had the unfortunate thought of stopping here to eat." 

 

"If you hate it so much, why do you work here?" John looked up at the boy,with genuine interest. The waiter was surprised by this. This stranger seemed to care more than his own family did. 

 

"Sometimes it isn't boring." And with a twirl of his apron he was gone. John stared after him and sighed. It was a real shame that most beautiful people were annoyingly arrogant and often mysterious. With a shrug John began to pick at his soup. 

 

::

 

"Thanks for the soup. It was actually nice." John commented as the waiter took his plates away. 

 

"Just sparing you from the horrors of the rest of the menu." 

 

John laughed. Nothing much, just a soft chuckle, but it caught the attention of the boy. Soon John found himself locked in eye contact with pair of alarmingly blue eyes. He blinked, cleared his throat, and turn his head down. 

 

"Um, well, yes. Could I get my check please?" 

 

::

 

The tab slide in front of John. He picked up his pen to sign off the card. 

 

"Left handed." The waiter hummed. 

 

"Yeah, I guess so."  

 

"That's interesting. Did you know that there are still some cultures that believe those who are left handed are the devil's servant?" 

 

"Are you trying to tell me you think I'm evil?" John smirked. 

 

"Hardly. A young twenty year old hot shot rugby player from Aberdeen, Scotland who studies at med school is hardly the most horrifying person I've met." 

 

"That's brilliant." John yelled a bit too loud. A couple of gossiping waitresses turned to look at them in disgust. "Sorry. That was just very impressive." 

 

"Really? You think so?" The waiter wore a faint blush. 

 

"Yeah, how you could have known that?" 

 

"Simple, actually. Age was easy. You look about 2 or 3 years older than me, leaving you around 20. As for knowing you're from Aberdeen, your repressed accent suggested Scottish decent and Aberdeen is the closest big city from here. Then we come to rugby. It's very obvious you have the build for it and appropriate damage from years of playing. Med school was a lucky guess I based off of your god awful hand writing. Most doctors tends to have that." 

 

"Amazing." John huffs. 

 

"I usually don't get everything correct, but thank you." The waiter slips him a smile. It's the first real emotion John had seen on the boy. John smiles back.

 

"Seeing as you know everything about me, why don't you tell me about you?" Bit of a gamble, flirting with a man you don't even know the name of, but John Watson was always one for danger. The boy slide into the booth across from John and began talking. 

 

::

 

It seems like hours have passed and they're still chatting. Although, they aren't talking about anything of real importance. Just about how John's car needs repairs and the waiter needs a haircut. Just blissful small talk. Normally they would both hate small talk, but it doesn't seem so bad between the two of them. Especially when their hands are now laced together over the counter top. John gently stroke the boy's long finger. 

 

"Come with me" The tall lanky waiter stands and whispers into his ear. John is helpless to follow. 

 

Ignoring the knowing glares of the other staff the two boys make their way to the break room. 

 

Unfortunately, they aren't alone. A short but stocky woman sits screaming down the phone about how bad her nail job was or some other inconsequential life problem. 

 

"Get out." The waiter growls. His hand still firmly laced with John's. 

 

"No, I'm on the phone." Her mouth smacks loudly on gum. John wonders who she could possibly be chatting with at 3 am, but figured he isn't one to talk. 

 

"You're cheating on your fiancé, flunking maths, and still haven't told your parent about your plan to drop out. Now, leave." 

 

The woman leaves. 

 

As soon as the door is shut, the waiter pushes John against the table and presses his lips to John's. There's one timid chaste kiss, but from there it's all tongue and teeth. John's one hand is tangled in the boy's curly mass of hair and the other pressed on the table for support. The boy's hands are teasing along the waist of John's denim trousers. 

 

"Oh god, that was amazing. What you knew about the girl." John moans as his neck is thoroughly marked. 

 

"Most of it I heard from her phone conversations with her friends" 

 

John laughs again, but quickly stops because this is hardly the time for laughter. Also, a thigh has just been pressed up against the tented crotch of his trousers and, oh god, does it not feel just perfect. 

 

John begins thrusting against the boy's thigh while he pulls up his head to reach his mouth. Heady gasps filled the break room and clever fingers are pulling at his belt. John's hands have made their way up under the waiter's shirt and the apron was long gone by now. 

 

All clothes have been tossed away and it's just the two teens laying on the floor. The waiter lets out a load groan as John aligns their hips so they ease to in the most gorgeous of ways. Hands wrap around and precome lubricates as they thrust wildly. It's just a quick and dirty hand job, but John couldn't think of a time he had had better sex. 

 

They lay on the ground, chest heaving, as the come down to reality. John's hand is twined with the boys and draped across his stomach. His eyes look up at the oddly floral pattern on the ceiling. 

 

"What do you plan on doing with your life? Surely, you don't want to be here forever." John asks. The waiter turns to him. He takes a second to respond, mainly because of the shock of topic change. 

 

"Well, actually, I'm creating my own profession. Consulting detective. I'll help people with private cases and the police when they are out of their depth, which is always." 

 

"You'll be good at that." John rubs his thumb across the boy's knuckles. "Seeing as you knew everything about me." 

 

"Thank you. You seem to be the only one who has faith in me." 

 

"That's a shame. You're going to be amazing." 

 

::

 

Outside, John and the boy stand around the car. The waiter is smoking and John shuffles his feet. They stand in silence for what seems to be hours. 

 

"I don't even know your name." John smirks. 

 

"Hmm, it was on my name tag." The waiter stubs out his cigarette. 

 

"Yes, but I was a little busy staring at other things than you name tag."

 

"Cheeky, I like it, suites you well." The boy kicks away the crushed butt. " I don't know your name, either." 

 

"John." 

 

"Sherlock" 

 

"Unusual." 

 

"Better than your pedestrian name." 

 

"I suppose you're right." John chuckles. Sherlock offers a shy smile. 

 

 

A few more minutes of companionable silence passes. 

 

"I - uh - I'll have to be leaving soon. Need to get to Paisley before I drop." John fishes out his keys. 

 

"Paisley?" Sherlock questions. 

 

"Oh, yeah, I'm heading to Paisley, not Aberdeen." 

 

"Damn, there's always one thing." 

 

"I figured I'd spare your ego." John smiles. 

 

With a sinking feeling in his chest John kisses his waiter good bye before he drives off. 

**Author's Note:**

> A follow up could be written if someone shows interest.


End file.
